Pop Travel (2 page)

Walnut Grove, GA
Monday, July 22, 2080

amouflaged by the tall reeds, Cooper focused on the small boat thirty yards out. Nothing could distract him. Not the gnats buzzing around his eyes or the water sneaking into his waders. His objective: not to fall into the muck while gathering evidence on his two marks. If Cooper destroyed another QV, Miki would kill him.

As if reading his mind, the wrist imager quacked.
Dawson
blinked in a corner of the translucent frame.

“Click.” At Cooper’s command, the QV snapped an image.

“Hello, Dawson,” he whispered. His voice triggered a sub-frame to open, and a handsome, grinning face appeared. Cooper’s charismatic little brother, with perfectly messy, dirty blond hair and cool, blue eyes that always had a smirk behind them, was the only person Cooper would take a call from in the middle of a stakeout.

“Hey, bro. Nice hat.” Dawson strained to see behind Cooper. “Jameson Layton Cooper, where the hell are you?”

Cooper held back a laugh and gave his brother a nod. It would take more than using his full name to blow Cooper’s cover.

“I’m incognito.”

“Where’s Cognito?” Dawson did laugh.

“Good one.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to let you know I have a meeting in Atlanta this week with Mayor Athawan. He’s been talking with Ford-Mercedes about adding another fleet of Econ Cars to the city supply and wants me there for the negotiations. Anyway, I’d like to treat you to lunch tomorrow. If you’re available.”

“I don’t know. Let me check my schedule. Sure.”

A huge splash followed by howls of laughter drew Cooper’s attention.

Dawson shook his head and chuckled.

“Great. See you tomorrow. I love your job,” he said.

Cooper grinned, and they disconnected. Another e-car meeting. Only a few years ago, Dawson surprised the family taking a job at the floundering Ford-Mercedes. His innovative proposal of limiting all inner city travel to electric cars and public transit flew through legislation with the help of President Powell Johnson, whom Dawson interned for during college. But back then, the title was
Senator
Johnson. Now, at only thirty-three, Dawson currently held the Michigan Congressional District 8 seat with plans of becoming a Senator the next election year. Cooper beamed, proud of his little brother. He always pictured Dawson as a great leader.

“Record.” Cooper aimed to shoot more video.

Once the two bumpkins righted themselves, they continued to laugh and joke. While they traded puffs in their little boat, they forgot about their poles floating away in the water. What a life. They reminded Cooper of lazy fishing days with Dawson when they were young, minus the weed.
Getting old sucks.

After a few more minutes, Cooper began his stealthy slosh back to shore. Carefully bagging his fishing disguise, he packed it into Miki’s hand-me-down sedan. Cooper hated borrowing her car, meticulous as she was, but the bus wouldn’t take him this far out. Times like this, he considered getting a car of his own.

By the time he got back to town, he had talked himself out of it, as he always did. Most places were close enough to walk to, and he could save the cost. Deep down, he remembered test-driving cars had been a favorite date for him and Kristen. He still couldn’t do it alone.

Even though he had left Atlanta, reminders of Kristen still jumped out at him, catching him off guard. He couldn’t believe five years had passed since his wife’s tragic plane crash. Every day, he relived the argument with her to fly instead of using pop travel. He hadn’t trusted the sketchy new science of laser teleportation. Being a pilot, he thought flying would be best. His skepticism cost him his reason for living. Most days, he felt empty.

After pulling into the lot behind his building, a turn of the century, two-story house, Cooper dropped off his disguise at the foot of the stairs leading to his apartment above and entered his office through the side door. The lonely reception area matched his mood, with a drab, slipcovered couch and two matching chairs daring someone to sit on them. Fortunately, the local clients didn’t expect much from the “Peeping Tom” detective, and he lived up to their low standards.

The atmosphere around Miki’s desk, with plants and pictures, brightened the room, contrasting dramatically with the second-hand furnishings. Miki once told Cooper that a peaceful setting encouraged visitors to relax and unload their sad stories. Luck brought Miki to him and he appreciated her perking the place up.

When he saw Miki talking on the voice phone, Cooper did a double take. Highly unusual. No one used voice phones anymore, especially Miki. She was superstitious about it. He scrunched his eyebrows at her and waved as he headed for his desk.

“I’ll check in later,” he whispered.

The pretty, cocoa-complected girl gave him a stern look, pursing her lips, and shook a finger for him to wait.

“Could you hold on a moment, sir? Thanks,” she said politely into the phone and put it on hold. “You need to talk to this guy. Here.”

She shoved the phone at him. Cooper jerked back and took it.

“Why is he on the voice phone? Who is it?”

Her hands and shoulders flew up in a big shrug as she mouthed, “I don’t know!” and took the call off hold.

“Hello?” Cooper asked.

“Mr. Cooper? Hello. I, uh, don’t know how to begin.” The man’s voice quavered. “I can’t talk long. I think I’m being followed and possibly listened in on. But I’m using the lobby phone, so I don’t know how they would tap it. But they have ways…” He rambled, sounding like he just escaped from some kind of institution.

“Okay. Take it slow. What did you need?” Cooper asked.

“I hoped I could talk to you in person.”

Cooper sensed the guy’s desperation through the line. He sighed and decided to humor him.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Conyers. At the La Quinta Inn.”

Conyers? I wonder how he got my name.

“I know the place. It’s got a diner across the street, right? Want me to meet you there?”

“Yes. I see it. Dixie’s Diner. I guess that’ll do. I’m pretty sure I lost them when I left the city limits and changed buses. But those damn cameras are everywhere! How soon can you be here?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll wait,” he said and hung up.

“That was interesting.” Cooper handed Miki the phone.

“Who was it?”

“He didn’t say. He was freaked out. He may just be a loon. Should be a good story, if nothing else.”

“I don’t know. You better be careful, Cooper. Anyone who doesn’t use a vid phone has something to hide and shouldn’t be trusted.” Her eyes peered up at him with a hint of worry. She underestimated his ability to deal with surprises. She had never seen him in his previous life as a shark attorney. He could still stare down a hostile witness.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Conyers, GA

Huddled in the farthest booth, Cooper easily spotted the mysterious caller. Leery of everyone, the small, gaunt man peered from behind a menu at the door with dark, shadowy eyes, and stole glances at the security camera over his head. He looked like a bum who had wandered in for a cup of hot water to put a bone in. When he noticed Cooper, his eyes widened, and he gave a quick, summoning wave.

Cooper walked through the deserted diner, looking down at his shoes to hide a smirk at the guy’s ridiculous super sleuth behavior, and slid into the booth.

The guy promptly adjusted two menus to block the view of the other patrons.

Is this guy serious?

“Mr. Cooper, I apologize for the way I contacted you. I realize I must appear a little… nervous. But once I explain, I think you will understand.” He leaned in as he spoke, his eyes wide and wild with urgency.

A
little
nervous?
With his scruffy, brown hair, dingy smell, and crumpled suit, he looked like he needed a shower and some sleep, and possibly a prescription.

“Fire away, Mr…”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I have forgotten my manners. Please forgive me. Jonathan Phisner.” He raised a shaky hand.

Cooper clasped it firmly and gave the man a reassuring smile, staring into his frantic eyes like a father calming down his son before coming in to relief pitch for the win. Cooper had used the same technique when comforting timid clients before they took the stand.

Phisner released and visibly relaxed a notch, as his shoulders sank.

But his calm didn’t last long. At the jingle and whoosh of the door opening, Phisner’s chin snapped up and his eyes filled with fear, searching over Cooper’s shoulder. Cooper turned around and watched an elderly couple waddle in and sit down.

“Mr. Phisner, you are safe here. What has you so worried?”

Phisner wrung his hands. When he realized it, he clenched them into fists and hid them in his lap. Squinting at the table, he took a deep breath.

Cooper could tell Phisner struggled to keep it together.

“I’m sorry. I…”

“Mr. Phisner, look at me.” Cooper leaned in and waited for Mr. Phisner to meet his gaze, again the patient father. “You don’t have to apologize. You have obviously been through something traumatic. I am here to listen. Try to relax and start at the beginning.”

Phisner nodded, took one more deep breath, and let loose.

“Okay. Here it is. I used to work for an accounting firm in Atlanta where I met my fiancée, Aleesa Kingston. She was wonderful, even though I only saw her on the weekends, with all her travel. But maybe that’s why our relationship flourished…” He shook his head, cutting off his rambling.

Cooper nodded for him to continue. Giving an apologetic smile, Phisner nodded back.

“Anyway, a couple of months ago, Aleesa went to Denver for one of her many meetings, only this time she never made it to her destination. She didn’t call anyone and she didn’t come home. She just disappeared.” He snapped his fingers. His hands never stopped moving. Up, down, slicing, pointing. The exaggerated, shaky gestures told Cooper Phisner was genuinely frazzled.

“When I asked the police, they didn’t care. They told me they had zero leads and missing person cases go unsolved all the time. And listen to this. The same thing happened two years ago to her cousin, Sarah. She vanished like she never existed after popping for a business trip. Two weeks after Sarah vanished, her mother found a suicide note, but her body was never found. Aleesa’s disappearance ate me up. Since the police were useless, I decided to do some investigating on my own. I promised Aleesa’s family I would do my best to find her, one way or another.” Phisner’s eyes clouded.

Poor guy.

“I popped to Denver and tracked down the limo driver assigned to pick her up. When he dropped Aleesa off at her hotel, he said she ran across the street and almost got hit by a bus and disappeared. But I know he was lying. He kept saying, ‘you know, man, she was like all acting, you know, crazy and all.’ And I’ve never seen someone sweat so much as him.”

Cooper tilted his head.

“Mr. Phisner, this is argumentative and hearsay.”

Phisner held up a hand and fluttered it back and forth.

“I know it sounds that way, but there’s more. The hotel claimed she never checked in. And before I went back home, I asked the people at the Denver Transport Hub to show me video of Aleesa in the travelport or getting into the limo. Security blew me off and told me it was classified. I popped back to Atlanta not knowing what to think or what to do. I didn’t suspect foul play until I got home. That’s when I figured out someone was following me.” He ducked and pointed at the camera over his head.